@rusty-spring wrote:To get back on track, here's a hair/expression study from my sketch pad. With a little something extra for a possible super secret project...braaaaiiiinsss

LOL... brains...

I guess thats reference to the Zombie gag I pulled with my sig right?

Ah, I suppose so, but that wasn't the original intent.

It's more for the "Zombie Plan" post where I mentioned I would be open to a GsG/Zombie crossover art...maybe. It's still very hush hush around here at Rusty-Spring Inc. The boss never tells me what's going on...

Here's part of the Prologue of Backland Beat. The prologue has a different layout than the rest of the story. It's written in 1st person by the main characters, the regular chapters are in the standard narrative 3rd person.

Anyways, these are Carolyn's, Lyssa's, Carmeia's, Sayumi's journal entries. Gives a bit of insight into their personalities. Probably going to be edited around some later. There's more, but I'm not certain if I'll post the rest yet.

Backland BeatPrologue – Reflections

Carolyn Gates

Damn, I've lost my diary. I really need to start organizing better, although this time it isn't exactly my fault. You'll always misplace something during a big move. Anyways, I better recap what's been going on the past few weeks. You know, just in case I never find my old diary (which I probably won't.)

Let's see, I've just been given an administrator position over a new branch of Region Works. I'm not going to lie to myself and say that it had nothing to do with the fact that my family is one of the largest shareholders in the Company, but I like to think that's not the only reason. I've been employed by Region Works for the past six years as a liaison, a good one too. Hopefully they realized that I was capable of being more than a mere peon.

The branch I'm responsible for is Altrinity Proaction. Sort of a strange name. Sounds like we're a philanthropist group. As of right now I'm the only AP employee, finding the rest is up to me. I'll have to start looking at possible prospects and getting some interviews scheduled.

...

Which reminds me that I need to set up my office. Right now the AP complex is nothing more than an empty shell. I'm not exactly sure I'll be able to convince future employees that I have a cutting edge contracting firm while sitting atop a pile of cardboard boxes filled with clothes.

Where was I? Oh that's right, the new job and the big move. I'm no longer living in Grenoble, and instead now here in the land of the free and the home of the brave. Some people thought I was crazy to move all the way to the US, but it's not so bad. I did grow up here for the first dozen or so years of my life. It's just different here, but you could say about any European country compared to the States.

More specifically, I'm in Corpus Christi, Texas. It's going to take a while to get used to the heat, but it shouldn't be too difficult.

What time is it? 12:30 AM.....I better call it quits for tonight. I have a big day tomorrow. Actually now that I think of it, where am I going to sleep? Tsk...guess I'll have to find a hotel.

Carolyn

Lyssa Eichelhardt

As a rule, I don't normally do favors for other people. They usually involve details that were "forgotten" or weren't considered “important” at the time. But I owed them a favor in return, and I hate being in debt. That said, this favor certainly involves its share of forgotten details.

Sitting next to me is one of them. Carmeia, I believe her name was. We're both contractors with Region Works and were asked to help a certain VIP's relative (I think, I can't remember the relationship) jumpstart a new Company branch in Texas. I wonder if she owed someone a favor as well.

Speaking of which, I met Carmeia in Cologne, and from there we flew to the United States. I don't know her very well, but she certainly looks capable...that is you don't count the fact that she's currently sleeping against my shoulder and snoring.

Technically we should already be in Corpus Christi, but in a moment of weakness I gave in and we're now behind schedule. You see, there was a ComTech tradeshow in Houston and Carmeia insisted that we go. I'm not too big on what is essentially a giant live weapon commercial, but I guess my partner here is. Guess it can't be helped. There's always one gun-nut no?

Still, it's a little disappointing. I liked my work in Cologne. There was plenty of it, and I was gaining a repuation as one of the best marksman in the area. Plus...America's a really big country isn't it? It's going to be hard to work up a reputation again, but at least that gives me a goal while I'm here...

Okay, Carmeia just snuggled her head up against my neck and we're starting to get some stares from the men on the bus. This needs to be corrected now before it gets out of hand...

Great, all I managed to do was coax her to lean against my shoulder again. Sheiss...My face is red and that only makes it look worse. They probably think we're a pair of traveling lesbians.

What...What in the world...?

Oh gross.

She just drooled on my shoulder. I can't take it anymore. Time to act.

Lyssa

Carmeia Marini

GAH!

I've just been jabbed in the ribs with Lyssa's icepick for an elbow. What the hell was that about? She's just glaring at the seat in front of her now. Wonder what crawled up her butt.

Regardless, I get to write in a “journal” now because Lyssa forbade me to sleep the rest of the trip. Hells...this trip. First the 12 hour flight, now the bus. Why couldn't we fly direct? America's one of those places that have airports in every backyard isn't it? Meh, whatever.

Oh yeah! Yesterday I lucked out and managed to visit Combat Technology's tradeshow. Those guys distribute almost every gun out there. The absolute best part was the consumer live-fire trials. I got a chance to fire a vintage Browning M2 anti-aircraft turret. I wonder if I can convince this new Company to let me mount one somewhere...

Also, I took Lyssa along because she looks like she doesn't get out enough. Naturally she resisted and mumbled about “schedules” but hey, the world won't end because we're a day late right? She tried to act all cool by looking disinterested, but I saw her eyeing the sniper rifle kiosks – Especially the .50 cals. Kinda funny to think that a little blonde like her shoots one of those things like...what's the name of that western movie guy...John...something.

It sure is going to take a while to get adjusted here.

Speaking of getting adjusted, I could really use a nice glass of Jassarte...though I highly doubt I'm going to find any bottles of it here...Americans certainly don't have the vineyards we do.

Hmm...Lyssa's not scowling at me anymore. I think I'm going to see if I can sleep some more...

Carmeia

Sayumi Konae

Just got off the phone with my mother in Yokohama. It was the usual conversation. Kept asking me when I was planning on moving back home, go to university, and then become an office lady >_Anyways, it's harder finding work as a contractor in America without knowing anybody than I thought it would be. I figured it would be fairly simple, given my capabilities, but I suppose I'm still just a bright-eyed kid to these people. I've been able to get a few one-time jobs here and there, mostly as a coordinator, but I want something more long-term. I definitely haven't seen any field work yet and you know what they say - “Experience is everything.”

I hate to say it, but part of me thinks that my mom was right. Just up and leaving everything behind for an exciting life in the US certainly isn't as glamorous as I made it out to be.

Ugh...is this flight ever going end? Doesn't help that I'm sitting next to a giant whale of a man who, no offense, probably should have had to pay for two seats. And the whole time I was using the plane's phone was eyeing me in a really weird way >_>.

Yeah that's right, if you're peaking into my journal (which I'm pretty sure you are), I'm writing about you. So kindly keep your eyes to yourself and take a nap or something. Oh, the captain just gave an announcement. 20 minutes until we land in Corpus Christi.

^_^

I sure hope my luggage wasn't knocked around too much in the cargo hold. There's some sensitive equipment in there!

Finally got over that horrible block I was in, and have been drawing again. Here was something fun and quick to ease me into my other projects. It's another art with fiction, but in regards to those that would rather not read the fiction bit, here's the picture.

Probably won't understand the context of picture (why Laine's hair is different, her clothing choice, etc.) but I'll put it up here in front anyways. Speaking of the accompanying fiction, it's one of the longer "Adventures of Laine" that I've written so far and one of the most fun - the whole thing went pretty fast. Like always, the picture will be placed where it happens in the story.

Place Your Bets...

“Seven's a winner!”

The stick man pushed the dice back towards the player, while a base dealer paid out chips. A man on the far side of the table grabbed the dice once more. He held them over to his left as a young woman blew on them for luck.

The dice clacked as they tumbled onto the table.

“Seven!”

An uproar of cheers came from all sides as once again, bets were paid out. The shooter felt a strong hand clap his back as he raked in his winnings.

“Lemme tell you son, your lady friend there must be as lucky as she is beautiful. Don't you let her go. My second yacht is riding on it.” The boisterous man winked as he placed another bet. So far, everything was working out well. The blonde woman in question leaned over to whisper in the shooter's ear.

“Clay, I thought you said we were suppose to keep a low profile.” Clayland continued to act enthusiastic about the game while he replied just as softly.

“We are. I'm the dashing young newcomer with a hot streak and you're my gorgeous companion.” Technically, that wasn't the plan, but so far it seemed to be working as if it was. He threw the dice again.

“Easy Eight!”

Laine wrinkled her nose at his response and turned her head left and looked across the gaming floor. A richly dressed man in his mid-30's was commanding the craps table to the left of them. His black hair was styled into a contemporary cut and his gold watch and rings only served to further announce his wealth. As she turned back towards her handler she watched as his latest throw roll to a stop.

“Seven-out! Sorry, sir.” Clayland shrugged and smiled and watched as his chips were pulled off the betting field.

“Aww...next time babe.” Laine leaned over and pecked him the cheek. Afterwards she turned her head and whispered once more. “Heads up. The target's moving.” Clayland looked over to where Laine had previously been watching. “Looks like he's heading back to his suite.”

“Thanks for the game gentlemen, ladies.” He stood up and gave a small nod towards the other patrons. Quickly the whimsicle smile vanished and thus began the second phase of their mission.

Simon Fournier was currently walking in front of them, heading towards the stairs of the Crystal Zephyr casino. Fournier was one of the richest men in the world, and also one of the most important information brokers currently doing business. He had been selling classified documents to whoever had the most money, and now it had finally caught up with him.

“He's getting into an elevator.” Laine said between terse lips as they continued to shadow their mark.

“Don't worry, we'll grab the next one.”

If Fournier had noticed them as he turned to get into the elevator, then he certainly didn't show it.

“Which room did you say he was in again?” Clayland pushed the up button and checked his watch.

“24th floor, room 2405. A balcony suite.” The elevator arrived and the two of them stepped into it. The door closed as Clayland pushed the button to the 23th. While watching the elevator's floor counter rise he heard a ripping noise come from beside him. He looked over at Laine who was the source.

“D-did you rip your dress?” He asked in confusion.

“Uh huh.” Laine replied nonchalantly and tossed her head to loosen her hair.

“That was expensive you know.”

“Sorry Clay, had to. I can run easier this way if I have to.” He noticed that Laine had already grabbed her KA-BAR they had placed in the emergency phone compartment the day before. She strapped it to her right leg and adjusted it's position.

“Just remember this the next time you say I never buy you anything nice.” Clayland joked as he looked at the ripped seams of her dress.

“Hmm...it's hard to take you seriously when you keep looking at my thighs.” She said, cocking her head to the side.

“I am not.”

“Are to.”

“Ok ok, drop it. We've got more important things to discuss. You remember what to do?” The elevator had just hit the 22nd floor and it would be seconds until they were forced to start the third phase. As soon as they had reached the 23rd, Clayland stepped out of the opening doors and turned towards his partner.

“Of course I do. Just try not to get lost on the way up m'kay?” Laine grinned and hit the button labeled '24.' As the elevator doors closed Clayland made his way to the emergency stairwell.

*DING*

After a short trip, the elevator opened and Laine stepped out into the hallway.

*****

Clayland broke open the fire axe box with his elbow and after waiting a minute to see if anyone had noticed the sound of broken glass, he reached inside. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled out a USP Compact and a suppressor. He rolled his eyes. Hiding weapons throughout the hotel was Laine's idea. While it was true that weapons were impossible to conceal in the high security casino floor, in the hotel itself there were no such problems. They could have just as easily put the weapons in their room but, to be fair, it would have been an extra trip.

“C'mon, it's much more 'James Bond' this way isn't it?”

He remembered her saying. Naturally Bond always kept his sidearm with him, but he was feeling particularly accommodating yesterday.

“No point in complaining now.” Clayland told himself and then peaked through the narrow window of the stairwell door. He waited as he saw Laine walking towards room 2405.

*****

Laine had observed Priscilla after a night of drinking enough times to know exactly how to act. She adjusted her cleavage, then walked up to the door and knocked. As she did so she leaned up against the wall next to the entrance and waited. The peephole darkened as someone viewed through. A pair of muffled voices could be heard from the inside. Finally the door opened and in its place stood a strong, well-built man.

“Yeah?” He said gruffly.

“Ohmigosh!” Laine gasped and giggled, waving her hands in the air as she leaned sideways against the hallway wall. “I think I may have the wrong room!” She peeked her head into the doorway and into the room. The large man sidestepped in order to cut off her view, but was stopped as the other voice in the room spoke.

“You're that delightful young lady that was downstairs with the rather plain looking kid by the craps tables, no?” Fournier had stood up from his couch and began approaching the doorway.

Keep coming...not quite close enough.

Laine thought as she kept her inebriated smile.

“Mmm...maybe!”

“Well please, come inside. I would hate to keep a guest waiting in the hall.” He finally stepped up next to his bodyguard and motioned for him to move out of the way so she could enter. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Simon had little time to react as he watched the blonde girl's expression sharpen into an icy stare as she leapt into the room. The room's lights reflected off of a steel edge as it came slashing through the air.

The bodyguard dropped like a sack of potatoes as his face was sliced diagonally upwards, blood and sinus fluid pouring out from the bisection. Fournier himself tried to scream but was unable as he felt a steel grip grasp him around his neck, crushing his windpipe. He could only convulse as he felt the knife imbed itself deep into his ribcage. The last image he saw through the excruciating pain was the bloodied blade withdraw, then plunge down between his eyes.

*****

As soon as he had seen Laine leap into Fournier's room, Clayland quickly exited the stairwell and moved down the hallway, gun drawn. He saw what must've been a bodyguard drop lifeless to the ground, and from the shadows flowing from within the room, the main target wasn't going to be alive for much longer either. As he approached he saw Laine standing over the body of Fournier and wiping her knife off on the man's suit jacket. She turned around and stepped back into the hallway.

Clayland was just about to praise her for a near perfect execution when the door on the far side of the hallway opened. Out stepped a man dressed in a similar suit to the dead bodyguard on the ground between them.

This second bodyguard's eyes widened as he took in the situation and reached inside of his jacket for his weapon. He hadn't even gripped his gun before a quick double tap sent two subsonic bullets into his chest, sending him dead to his knees.

“Looks like for once you weren't late for the party Clay.” Laine said turning around and looking at the body.

“Can't let you do all the work. C'mon, let's get out of here.” He removed the suppressor from his gun and placed both on in the inside pocket of his sports coat. Likewise, Laine removed the knife sheath from her leg and handed it to him which went into another inside pocket. They summoned the elevator and didn't have to wait long before the doors slid open.

“Going down?” An occupant asked as they stepped on.

“Ground floor please.” The man nodded and hit the last button in the row. There were three others in the elevator, one was a middle-aged woman who was eyeing Laine's appearance curiously. Her eyes glanced over the ripped dress and tousled hair. The cyborg met the woman's glace and giggled.

“Oh this,” Laine motioned towards her appearance, “He can be such an animal sometimes.” She then winked and grabbed Clayland's arm. The woman raised an eyebrow and smiled nervously. Clayland played along.

“Hey, what I can I say. I guess I'm just insatiable.” He shrugged as Laine looked up at himwith a Cheshire grin. Inwardly, Clayland was placing an imaginary hand over his face.

The stick man pushed the dice back towards the player, while a base dealer paid out chips. A man on the far side of the table grabbed the dice once more. He held them over to his left as a young woman blew on them for luck.

The dice clacked as they tumbled onto the table.

“Seven!”

An uproar of cheers came from all sides as once again, bets were paid out. The shooter felt a strong hand clap his back as he raked in his winnings.

“Lemme tell you son, your lady friend there must be as lucky as she is beautiful. Don't you let her go. My second yacht is riding on it.” The boisterous man winked as he placed another bet. So far, everything was working out well. The blonde woman in question leaned over to whisper in the shooter's ear.

“Clay, I thought you said we were suppose to keep a low profile.” Clayland continued to act enthusiastic about the game while he replied just as softly.

“We are. I'm the dashing young newcomer with a hot streak and you're my gorgeous companion.” Technically, that wasn't the plan, but so far it seemed to be working as if it was. He threw the dice again.

“Easy Eight!”

Laine wrinkled her nose at his response and turned her head left and looked across the gaming floor. A richly dressed man in his mid-30's was commanding the craps table to the left of them. His black hair was styled into a contemporary cut and his gold watch and rings only served to further announce his wealth. As she turned back towards her handler she watched as his latest throw roll to a stop.

“Seven-out! Sorry, sir.” Clayland shrugged and smiled and watched as his chips were pulled off the betting field.

“Aww...next time babe.” Laine leaned over and pecked him the cheek. Afterwards she turned her head and whispered once more. “Heads up. The target's moving.” Clayland looked over to where Laine had previously been watching. “Looks like he's heading back to his suite.”

“Thanks for the game gentlemen, ladies.” He stood up and gave a small nod towards the other patrons. Quickly the whimsicle smile vanished and thus began the second phase of their mission.

Simon Fournier was currently walking in front of them, heading towards the stairs of the Crystal Zephyr casino. Fournier was one of the richest men in the world, and also one of the most important information brokers currently doing business. He had been selling classified documents to whoever had the most money, and now it had finally caught up with him.

“He's getting into an elevator.” Laine said between terse lips as they continued to shadow their mark.

“Don't worry, we'll grab the next one.”

If Fournier had noticed them as he turned to get into the elevator, then he certainly didn't show it.

“Which room did you say he was in again?” Clayland pushed the up button and checked his watch.

“24th floor, room 2405. A balcony suite.” The elevator arrived and the two of them stepped into it. The door closed as Clayland pushed the button to the 23th. While watching the elevator's floor counter rise he heard a ripping noise come from beside him. He looked over at Laine who was the source.

“D-did you rip your dress?” He asked in confusion.

“Uh huh.” Laine replied nonchalantly and tossed her head to loosen her hair.

“That was expensive you know.”

“Sorry Clay, had to. I can run easier this way if I have to.” He noticed that Laine had already grabbed her KA-BAR they had placed in the emergency phone compartment the day before. She strapped it to her right leg and adjusted it's position.

“Just remember this the next time you say I never buy you anything nice.” Clayland joked as he looked at the ripped seams of her dress.

“Hmm...it's hard to take you seriously when you keep looking at my thighs.” She said, cocking her head to the side.

“I am not.”

“Are to.”

“Ok ok, drop it. We've got more important things to discuss. You remember what to do?” The elevator had just hit the 22nd floor and it would be seconds until they were forced to start the third phase. As soon as they had reached the 23rd, Clayland stepped out of the opening doors and turned towards his partner.

“Of course I do. Just try not to get lost on the way up m'kay?” Laine grinned and hit the button labeled '24.' As the elevator doors closed Clayland made his way to the emergency stairwell.

*DING*

After a short trip, the elevator opened and Laine stepped out into the hallway.

*****

Clayland broke open the fire axe box with his elbow and after waiting a minute to see if anyone had noticed the sound of broken glass, he reached inside. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled out a USP Compact and a suppressor. He rolled his eyes. Hiding weapons throughout the hotel was Laine's idea. While it was true that weapons were impossible to conceal in the high security casino floor, in the hotel itself there were no such problems. They could have just as easily put the weapons in their room but, to be fair, it would have been an extra trip.

“C'mon, it's much more 'James Bond' this way isn't it?”

He remembered her saying. Naturally Bond always kept his sidearm with him, but he was feeling particularly accommodating yesterday.

“No point in complaining now.” Clayland told himself and then peaked through the narrow window of the stairwell door. He waited as he saw Laine walking towards room 2405.

*****

Laine had observed Priscilla after a night of drinking enough times to know exactly how to act. She adjusted her cleavage, then walked up to the door and knocked. As she did so she leaned up against the wall next to the entrance and waited. The peephole darkened as someone viewed through. A pair of muffled voices could be heard from the inside. Finally the door opened and in its place stood a strong, well-built man.

“Yeah?” He said gruffly.

“Ohmigosh!” Laine gasped and giggled, waving her hands in the air as she leaned sideways against the hallway wall. “I think I may have the wrong room!” She peeked her head into the doorway and into the room. The large man sidestepped in order to cut off her view, but was stopped as the other voice in the room spoke.

“You're that delightful young lady that was downstairs with the rather plain looking kid by the craps tables, no?” Fournier had stood up from his couch and began approaching the doorway.

Keep coming...not quite close enough.

Laine thought as she kept her inebriated smile.

“Mmm...maybe!”

“Well please, come inside. I would hate to keep a guest waiting in the hall.” He finally stepped up next to his bodyguard and motioned for him to move out of the way so she could enter. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Simon had little time to react as he watched the blonde girl's expression sharpen into an icy stare as she leapt into the room. The room's lights reflected off of a steel edge as it came slashing through the air.

The bodyguard dropped like a sack of potatoes as his face was sliced diagonally upwards, blood and sinus fluid pouring out from the bisection. Fournier himself tried to scream but was unable as he felt a steel grip grasp him around his neck, crushing his windpipe. He could only convulse as he felt the knife imbed itself deep into his ribcage. The last image he saw through the excruciating pain was the bloodied blade withdraw, then plunge down between his eyes.

*****

As soon as he had seen Laine leap into Fournier's room, Clayland quickly exited the stairwell and moved down the hallway, gun drawn. He saw what must've been a bodyguard drop lifeless to the ground, and from the shadows flowing from within the room, the main target wasn't going to be alive for much longer either. As he approached he saw Laine standing over the body of Fournier and wiping her knife off on the man's suit jacket. She turned around and stepped back into the hallway.

Clayland was just about to praise her for a near perfect execution when the door on the far side of the hallway opened. Out stepped a man dressed in a similar suit to the dead bodyguard on the ground between them.

This second bodyguard's eyes widened as he took in the situation and reached inside of his jacket for his weapon. He hadn't even gripped his gun before a quick double tap sent two subsonic bullets into his chest, sending him dead to his knees.

“Looks like for once you weren't late for the party Clay.” Laine said turning around and looking at the body.

“Can't let you do all the work. C'mon, let's get out of here.” He removed the suppressor from his gun and placed both on in the inside pocket of his sports coat. Likewise, Laine removed the knife sheath from her leg and handed it to him which went into another inside pocket. They summoned the elevator and didn't have to wait long before the doors slid open.

“Going down?” An occupant asked as they stepped on.

“Ground floor please.” The man nodded and hit the last button in the row. There were three others in the elevator, one was a middle-aged woman who was eyeing Laine's appearance curiously. Her eyes glanced over the ripped dress and tousled hair. The cyborg met the woman's glace and giggled.

“Oh this,” Laine motioned towards her appearance, “He can be such an animal sometimes.” She then winked and grabbed Clayland's arm. The woman raised an eyebrow and smiled nervously. Clayland played along.

“Hey, what I can I say. I guess I'm just insatiable.” He shrugged as Laine looked up at himwith a Cheshire grin. Inwardly, Clayland was placing an imaginary hand over his face.

No one in particular. GsG has too much drama for my tastes sometimes, so I just created a character that would be fun for me to write/draw. I guess maybe she has roots in any books/movies/manga/anime/friends/relatives that I happen to like.

From the Desk of Laine

Things I Can't/Won't Do -

Show off more skin than I feel like showing.

Lug around an 11 pound rifle when a pistol or knife will get the job done just as well.

Fight a small army by myself. I'm not from a James Cameron film.

Keep quiet if you tell me to do something idiotic/stupid/pointless.

Use outdated, inferior weaponry when there are better, more modern options available.

Be polite if someone is acts like an asshole.

Reveal as to how/where I keep personal weapons concealed on myself. And yes, I've already heard all the jokes. Stop yourself now.

Eat asparagus. That stuff is horrible.

Any action that is beyond my ability. No HALO jump from 35,000 feet without training.

Purposefully endanger my partner.

Things I Can/Will Do -

Dress appropriately for the occasion.

Be punctual.

Have lunch with Olga at least once a week.

Improvise if a mission strays off the planned course.

Practice tennis two hours daily like a “good girl.”

Return favors.

Sleep in on Sundays.

Note down anything Priscilla says while drunk.

Share said notes with Petrushka.

Whenever possible, attempt to uphold the “Rule of Cool," even if it means breaking any previous rules.

This was refreshing to draw as I was getting tired of drawing adolescent girls

LOL! Really? I honestly don't want to pass off as rude, but I don't think you drew adolescent yet from what I've seen, nothing close (to me). Adolescent girl (10-13) = training bra. I know you don't like the discussion, but I'd just like to bring that to light.

In the case of Claes going shirtless in Volume... don't remember... up to that time I assumed her to be 12. I either considered Yu Aida didn't know what he was thinking in that pic, or Claes is much older than I thought. I strongly suspect the former, simply because a bra of that cup size on a girl that short seemed odd.

I just read through most of this topic, and realized that your art seems to have a tad bit problem with portraying girls' ages. I'm not complaining because you did set her as older, and look-older (If you tried 13-years-old, I'd be seriously asking reconsideration).

When I saw your character, my mind went straight to 15 at youngest and 19 at oldest. With the right clothes and make-up, she could pass as a young college student.

She seems to have a wicked sense of humor.

1. Show off more skin than I feel like showing.

-- I don't get it having seen what she wears.

2. Lug around an 11 pound rifle when a pistol or knife will get the job done just as well.

-- An interesting notion, but against multiple persons on many levels and varying distances, you can't always rely on a pistol or knife, and certainly not for room clearing. One-on-one, sneak-in-the-room, back-stab missions, yes, though your bare hands would do fine.

5. Use outdated, inferior weaponry when there are better, more modern options available.

-- Outdated does not equal inferior. Take the M-16 vs M-14, or 9mm pistols vs the old .45.

THOUGHTS FROM TERRA, an OC of mine

1. Show off more skin than I feel like showing.

Show off any more skin and you'd be one slutty of a *****. If you're going to dress like that, you might as well dress like a whore. Might as well show it all off rather than have guys stare too long for a good view.

3. Fight a small army by myself.

Then you can sit out of the *****ing mission and not participate. All you're good for is the dumb and boring singles missions, and that is enough to show your lack of ability.

2. Lug around an 11 pound rifle when a pistol or knife will get the job done just as well.

No wonder--you're weak. Watch my RPG-10 take out small armies and be reminded of your weakness and stubborn stupidity.

4. Keep quiet if you tell me to do something idiotic/stupid/pointless.

I don't have to tell you to do something stupid. You do it too often on your own.

6. Be polite if someone is acts like an asshole.

Then you had better leave the vincity when I walk in, because not only will I point out your weakness, but everyone else's when discussion proves. You're just as good-for-nothing as Angelica, and holy **** is she helpless. Get out of my way you clutsy *****. (Shoves Rico)

7. Reveal as to how/where I keep personal weapons concealed on myself. And yes, I've already heard all the jokes. Stop yourself now.

What? Up your friggin @$$hole? Or can you not dress too slutty or that knife will show sticking out of your fat, fake boobs?

9. Any action that is beyond my ability.

Go figure. You can sit around and pout about how weak you are and never move up. I go past my ability all the time: that's why I'm so capable.

... I'm just trying to get her personality out. Note this is not my speech! (I do understand she's not an SWA cyborg though). I am trying my best to learn as much as I can shortly about the different OCs.

Last edited by Colonel Marksman on Sun 31 Aug 2008 - 1:05; edited 1 time in total

Certainly it goes beyond just a Cyborg and a Support to the Handlers. (come to think of it, What is Olga's job anyway? Clean up? Damage control?)

I have the premise that Olga, Petrushka, Priscilla, and Laine are all chums. Laine doesn't connect with the Generation 1 girls, so she hangs out with the older females of the Agency.

As for what Olga actually does, in my fanfiction world, all she does is start bar fights and bring T-34's and Russian bombers to the firing range.

Panzer IV wrote:rusty-san, if its not too much a problem for you, can you PM me what else is there that describes Laine from what she likes, what she doesn't like, what she do in spare-time, etc.?

I'll try to get something to you soon.

@Colonel Marksman wrote:I ask for a "care". What is it that she cherishes? If not, what is a primary focus throughout much of her cyborg life? I see she likes attracting the men, pretty commical.

Her primary focus? Haven't thought about that much. She doesn't have a sob story like the other cyborgs because I hate sob stories. Laine's just doing what she does because she can. Sure she's an assassin, but she's at least living comfortably and there are many "legal" jobs that are just as unsavory as killing people.

As for her acting sassy/playful - life's just better when you're having fun. I'm sure as heck don't want to write about an introverted, angsty girl. No thanks.

As a side note, I've always considered Laine to be more of a spin-off kinda character. Her stories hardly ever impact the lives of the of the canon cyborgs. Which is also the reason why if there are any canon characters in her stories, they're normally the secondary characters (i.e. Olga, Ferro, Prisicilla).

This was refreshing to draw as I was getting tired of drawing adolescent girls

LOL! Really? I honestly don't want to pass off as rude, but I don't think you drew adolescent yet from what I've seen, nothing close (to me). Adolescent girl (10-13) = training bra. I know you don't like the discussion, but I'd just like to bring that to light.

In the case of Claes going shirtless in Volume... don't remember... up to that time I assumed her to be 12. I either considered Yu Aida didn't know what he was thinking in that pic, or Claes is much older than I thought. I strongly suspect the former, simply because a bra of that cup size on a girl that short seemed odd.

Not always true. It seems that some petite girls seem to bebig-chested for their age and size. My OC Rachel is based on my real god-daughter who was already pushing a C-cup at 13 at 4'6"... Now in her 30's, she thanks godfor stopping at a D-Cup atage 16, although the band size kept changing as she grew. She's now 5'4" and is something like a 32D. The OC is based on a really odd-ball 22C. Bras at that size are usually custom made or a larger one cut down to size.

I had a link for Bra size stats and sizing (Apprently the old 2-measurement does not add up right for some girls), but cant seem to find them. Anyways, check out the Waspi Square Webcomic ( www.wapsisquare.com ), they have links on the subject there, and the comic is based on a rl girl who happens to be short, thin and an 'F' sized chest!

Back to the subject:

I love Laine. She is a character that has a lot of possibilities and oppertunites for her in a lot of Fanfiction and art in this genre. I hope to see more of her because she compliments the other characters so well. Can you imagine a Britney and Laine team up? (lol!)

@Colonel Marksman wrote:I ask for a "care". What is it that she cherishes? If not, what is a primary focus throughout much of her cyborg life? I see she likes attracting the men, pretty commical.

Her primary focus? Haven't thought about that much. She doesn't have a sob story like the other cyborgs because I hate sob stories. Laine's just doing what she does because she can. Sure she's an assassin, but she's at least living comfortably and there are many "legal" jobs that are just as unsavory as killing people.

As for her acting sassy/playful - life's just better when you're having fun. I'm sure as heck don't want to write about an introverted, angsty girl. No thanks.

As a side note, I've always considered Laine to be more of a spin-off kinda character. Her stories hardly ever impact the lives of the of the canon cyborgs. Which is also the reason why if there are any canon characters in her stories, they're normally the secondary characters (i.e. Olga, Ferro, Prisicilla).

Lol. You misunderstood me. I'm not asking about a sob story or background, I'm asking for a "care".

Characters form the core of a story. Without good characters, what someone writes is nothing more than an account of events, like in a history text book.

The core of the characters are the cares (for lack of better terms).

The care is anything the character "cares" for; anything that's worth dying for. Cares make up the majority of good comedy, they are what makes readers identify with the characters. Readers/viewers (of a movie) build up with the character in their joys, fears, troubles, and victories.A care falls into any of the following categories:(Note: I wrote this in format to refer to "Character" as a person)

1. Care for a CharacterThis could be a lover, a friend, enemy, family member, mysterious killer, or even a pet. Regardless of who it is, the fact remains that Character cares for that character, has deep emotions towards them, and wants them to live, die, attain a certain goal, or whatever. It doesn't matter who it is, as long as its consistent. Elsa and Henrietta are excellent examples.

2. Care for an Inanimate Object.This is a very common care. It could be a car, money, clothing, wallet, gun, blanket, jewel, or phone. Again, it doesn’t matter what it is, the only thing that matters is that Character cares for it, and very deeply. If you have seen Ice Age, you'll recognize Scrat, the squirrel, and his nut. We find great humor off of Scrat's care for his little nut.

3. Care for a goal.This is also another very common care, and is usually something difficult or impossible for the character at the time. In this case, the suspense can be driven about how Character attains the goal, if he does. Failure is part of swaying the emotion of an audience.

In some stories, the character must choose between a character and a goal/inanimate object.

4. Care for a Trait.Often, this is a care for a flaw or an imperfection Character has to deal with. This is more common in children’s TV series where Hero/Heroine has some imperfection that Villain nags about, and Hero/Heroine has to overcome or accept the flaw. Once again, it doesn’t matter what trait it is (it could even be strength), the fact remains: as long as the care drives the character, it works. Henrietta revealed a care of hers: her strength as a cyborg, when talking to Elenora.

5. Care for an Idea/Belief.This isn’t as common, but is there; basically, any care that does not fit in the above categories. In Christmas fairy tales, the care is often leaning towards the belief Santa is real. Other cares can be religions, ideals, or even concepts. Triela's character makes good use of this. She focuses so much on the relationship with her handler, but can't define it well. She's extremely unique.

All-in-all, it doesn’t matter who or what the care is, all that matters is that the character cares; there must be a good excuse for the Character to follow through with certain actions. The following are poor examples of cares.

6. Because I can.Yeah, doing something for the heck of it is often very poor. This means Character is often disinterested or has no motivation. Who wants to read about a story where Father takes care of three orphans simply “because he can”? I am the victim of this motivation—it doesn’t really work (see G.D. Wallez). It’s worse if the character puts all his effort into a goal that has no fruitful meaning or reason. This is probably the sloppiest reason you can come up with for Character doing certain actions.7. Revenge.It took me a long time to figure out why revenge was a poor care, but I finally discovered that it is the lack of a care. A story begins when the care is threatened. If the care is taken away, the story dies.

8. Because its fun.Once again, I am a victim of using this care. Simply to have fun in killing someone (such as the thrill) isn’t enough. Who is going to risk their life or a lifetime of prison for fun? There are people, I am sure, but it is more of a psychotic thing than it is a care or “good reason”. This is very flimsy.

9. Just curious.This is an excellent example when it comes to mysteries. Why is the sleuth investigating the case? If you come up with “because they were curious” then you’re story ran downhill before it began. Similiar to the reason “because its fun”, it’s not much of a life-risking worth.

Her primary focus? Haven't thought about that much.

Right now, Laine and her handler Clayland have no flavor. They aren't interesting characters just yet. You draw many pictures to try to get some color in there. It's empty, but physical appearance isn't what's lacking.

Why is Muffin so popular? She hates muffins, and she loves salty foods (chips). She doesn't care if all that salt is bad for you, it tastes good, and she's willing to die of cancer to eat salty foods. Ironically, her name is muffin, yet she hates them. Two cares already, minor ones, but good ones.

NOTE: These are NOT my own ideas I'm trying to give you, and certainly aren't my opinions. They are a complied group of notes from researching good writing 3 solid years, and still working. My best stories were about my first two OC cyborgs. My worst stories, with 5x better writing, were about G.D. Wallez. I was extremely confused as to why G.D. Wallez's stories were horrible compared to my earlier ones, despite being written worse.

Thanks for all the info, it's an interesting read. But I understood what you mean by "care." I don't know how much of this thread you've gone though, but I've mentioned how Laine started as, and still is, an art project and not a fiction project. I wanted to draw a female character that I could watch over time to see how my art improves or changes.

That said, all the fiction I write, is just to spice things up a bit. She doesn't have a "raison detre" right now because I've chosen not to give her one. If I start thinking too seriously about the character, then it becomes work, and I don't want Laine to become work. Just something fun I do in my spare time.

Some might argue that she has evolved characterization for herself, but if that is true, then it was all organic. It has come from the pictures I've drawn, and the short stories I've written to go along with such pictures. Nothing planned, nothing listed out, written down, orchestrated long in advance. Like I said, the art comes first, the story comes later. I don't have a problem with her looking pretty on the page and perhaps lacking a bit in the character development area.

An example of my method would be how she began as a 5' tall 13 year old girl. She's now evolved over time into a 5'7 16 year old, because it was more fun to draw her in that way (and to look at.)

So I don't know if I'll ever be able to respond to the interesting points you've laid out. It just not something I've got on my plate for now. I happy with where she is. A sassy, nice to look at, project. I'm not the author/writers some of the other members here are. I just foray into fanfiction because I like to have a little story sometimes.

As much as I like Laine the way she is at present and as much as I see where you're coming from, Rusty, I also feel that the Colonel does raise a valid point where it comes to Laine's character requiring some 'fleshing-out'. I'd be more than happy to do this whenever I have her guest-star in my stories, but nothing will go down without your prior evaluation and approval, of course.

I see you're following the typical route of giving the girl's drawings a higher level of detail then the guys. Though at least you're not as obvious about it as some artists are. Adam is at least detailed to the point where he doesn't look like you skimped on the detail for his character design, unlike some male manga characters.

It's a new fiction project I've been working on and off for the past few months (whenever time has allowed. )

Backland beat has been put on indefinite hiatus - the scope of it was too large and more than I could handle at the moment, so some reassessment will need to take occur. In it's place, I've started a new, more manageable project.

To put simply, for now, it's a detective/police setting. Elements of mystery, thriller, and perhaps horror (and of course a helping or two of comedy and action, as per usual ).

What I previously posted were three of the principal characters. I don't feel like divulging too much at this time, but I can say that Sloane works in the Investigative branch, and Marron and Adam work in the Enforcement branch (think SWAT, or similar.) Adam just happens to be in "off-duty" clothing there, hence why he's not geared up like Marron.

Also, I forgot to post this before, but this is the gun that Sloane keeps holstered in that rather conspicuous sheath.